Why We Write

I will never post a post about writing tips.
I will never use the words "author" and "advice" in the same sentence. 
(whoops, except for the last one)
I will never offer 3 of the most important tips for good writing.

Save the writing for the 'writers'.

For some of us, the pen is a bucket of paint
splashed on a big warehouse wall.
For some of us, the songs we sing are ours
not for studios or albums.
For some of us, the sweat we drip is bottled up
poured out for the oceans of thoughts inside.

For you who read, who click, who email, who reach out, who open and close the browser when you're done, thank you. The screen you read this merely a window that gets wiped clean after you are done with it.

This isn't a project for my 8th grade English class.
My writing professor in college will never be invited to opine on the grammar, phrases and words held within.

I'm ok because fragment sentence leaving as this we write why.

The River

"Nature,
Nurture,
Heaven and
Home
Sum of all them
By them driven."

Because it's the sound of a thousand looms intertwined with the staccato of a thousand sewing machines. Drops of water from faucets interrupting the water flowing down the street. Threads and drops. Woven and woven and flowing and flowing. Feet moving in unison and fingers underlining the count of their steps. Pops cracks and hum of that record player played to the alternating stop pause and play buttons of the cassette. Helpless from the shadows dancing on white walls. Slashing and keeping time a conductor would be proud of. Shadows don't stay. Shadows don't stay. Bicycle spokes wrapped with spindle cards. Two feet peddling backwards. Sounds flowing, projecting, repeating, spinning, and weaving.

"...and together we'll cross the river."

Oh Son

Son,
Son.. I hope this message finds you well. I know that life isn't Leave It To Beaver, believe me, and I know that it's not always swell. Hopefully the ink lasts from my pen, and hopefully the light is kind as you remember back when, back then. These hands held the hammer that built your crib. These hands held the shoulders of the woman who adjusted your bib. These hands did handstands because of you in delight, and these hands held the boat steady when thunder cracked in the night. Son, take a look at the pavement where you now stand. Take a look at the grass, the mud, and take a look at that sand. Look and remember those words packaged in three, three words that meant most to your mother, to you, to me. No one speaks of pages and paragraphs; people only remember themes. Words and dates mean nothing because moments carry our dreams. Son, dreams are what kept me up so many nights. Dreams can bind, fray, unwind, and they can make you blind in their lights. Take another look down where you stand and that exact place. Son, isn't it interesting how the closer you dive into the words on this page, the further they vault you far away into space? Son, life is an assault on your senses, but you'll never forget the smell of her hair. Son, take a look where you stand and pause right there. Take a breath, hold it, soak it all in. You might lose kid, but don't sit in draft mode on life's sideline - you just might win. Son, it's a weight to wait and not be able to call your name, to see your mother smile, or for us to love and call you friend. Son, life could have been yours, worse or better, with or without this letter. Son, her name was addressed on the envelope and email and telephone but I never hit send.

Bloody noses are better than frozen fingers.

Goal Goals

We are inundated with a deluge of "chase your goal" related advice, posts, and tweets.

Why is there no asterisk at the end of goal?

Exhibit A: Chase your goal.
Exhibit B: Chase your goal*.

*Reach your goal, and only then look back on your goal. Don't just sit in your wading pool of wisdom splashing words of whimsy to hopefully inspire yourself in finding a light at the end of the tunnel. Yes, we all got the memo that you should walk toward it.

What will you do when you're on the other side of the tunnel if successful, or on the receiving end of a freight-train if wrong?

We all have a goal, but what will you do with your goal* once you get there?